


Making It Real

by mistleto3



Series: The Things We Left Unsaid (lesbian!Sarumi) [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Reisaru mention, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistleto3/pseuds/mistleto3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making It Real

**Author's Note:**

> (Sakuko is the name I chose for fem!Saruhiko, as it sounded the most similar, though Misaki's name is obviously gender neutral so has remained the same.)
> 
> Based on a drabble prompt on tumblr sent by anonymous from [this](http://mikototsu-trash.tumblr.com/post/140642211428/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list) list 
> 
> This story can also be found on [Tumblr](http://mikototsu-trash.tumblr.com/post/141040308848/hi-i-absolutely-adore-youre-femmisaki-fics-and)

Sakuko didn’t like sleeping in the same room as someone else, let alone in the same bed. But Misaki had dragged her out drinking, and the girl’s alcohol tolerance was less than impressive. They had ended up in a bar the opposite end of the city to Misaki’s apartment, and Sakuko couldn’t let her walk that far alone in the condition she was in. The Sceptre 4 dorms were much closer, and taxis were expensive at that time of night. So Sakuko let her stay- just this once, she had insisted. 

The single bed had been a tight squeeze, and it had been impossible for the pair not to be touching. Sakuko had scooted as far over to the edge of the mattress that she could get, but Misaki had still fallen asleep practically in her arms. She got way too affectionate when she was drunk- she had held Sakuko’s hand the entire way home, and then she had insisted on sleeping firmly inside Sakuko’s personal space. Sakuko had been hyperaware of her every movement as they lay together, the way locks of her hair tickled her arm, the slow rhythm of her breathing, the way she twitched and shifted slightly, pulling the covers tighter around herself, turning over to face Sakuko, her head drooping forward to rest against her collarbone, her warm breath raising goosebumps where it skimmed Sakuko’s skin. Not that it was unpleasant, but it made the air feel as if it were filled with static, and Sakuko found herself unable to relax; Misaki’s presence was all she could think about. It made her mouth dry. If it weren’t for the alcohol in her system making her eyelids heavy, she didn’t think she’d ever have gotten to sleep. 

Sakuko woke first; she had forgotten to close the curtains the night before, and the pale sunlight that poured into the room pulled her out of the light sleep that she had eventually drifted into. She looked down at Misaki and found her still dozing, the quilt pulled up to her chin. Misaki was pretty, really pretty, when she was smiling slightly as she dreamed. Sakuko had gotten so used to seeing her scowling; in the past few years, whenever they had met Sakuko’s presence and the conflict that had hung between them had marred Misaki’s features with suppressed pain. But now her heart-shaped face was relaxed, her slightly parted lips curved upwards at the corners. Sakuko had never really noticed how long her eyelashes were, or the small freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her fiery hair splayed across the pillow, tousled by the way she shifted constantly in her sleep. A lock of it fell across her face, making her button nose twitch as it tickled her skin, and Sakuko instinctively brushed it back with her fingers. Her hair was soft, she noticed as her hand lingered slightly too long over the side of her face, almost cupping her jaw. Misaki’s lashes twitched slightly, then parted, and her warm hazel eyes bleary as she looked up at Sakuko. Sakuko froze, her fingers still tangled in Misaki’s hair. There was a tight feeling in her chest. 

“Mornin’…” Misaki’s voice was slow and still gruff with sleep. It took her a moment to notice Sakuko’s fingers, paused mid-motion as they combed through her hair. Her cheeks flushed slightly.

“Umm…?”

Sakuko quickly removed her hand. “Your hair had fallen onto your face and it was bugging me.” 

“R-right...”

"You drank a lot last night. If you’re hung over, there are pain pills in the cabinet in the bathroom.” Sakuko changed the subject hurriedly, rolling onto her back so that she no longer had Misaki practically snuggled to her chest, and fixed her gaze on the ceiling. 

“I don’t get hangovers; I just get really thirsty.”

Sakuko raised an eyebrow in suspicion; it wasn’t unheard of for Misaki to put on a brave face to save her pride. Still, she seemed fine as she rolled out of bed. 

“Pass me my glasses, will you?” 

Misaki handed Sakuko the lenses and she slid them on, watching her friend come into focus. Misaki was facing away from her, wearing only the navy t-shirt that Sakuko had lent to her the night before. It hung loosely from her small frame; the hem dangled around the tops of her thighs, so she had worn it like a night gown. The way it completely swamped her was oddly adorable. Misaki stretched slowly, rising to her tiptoes, arching her back, and extending her arms into the air leisurely as she yawned. The hem of the shirt lifted slightly, and Sakuko caught a glimpse of the white cotton of her underwear. She couldn’t draw her eyes away from Misaki, the soft, tan skin of her arms with its dusting of rust-coloured freckles, the way the pale gold light filtering in through the window caught on her auburn hair and gave it a fiery glow, the shape of her slim but muscular thighs, simultaneously powerful and dainty, the way her body trembled slightly as she stretched, almost languidly. 

Sakuko grimaced at the errant thoughts. It wasn’t like she had never seen her friend in her underwear before; they had spent years getting changed for gym classes beside each other, and Misaki hadn’t minded undressing in front of Sakuko when they’d had sleepovers, or when they had lived together. Sakuko had expected Misaki to quite prude about being naked in front of her; she was a total virgin, and a bashful mess around any man she didn’t know. Instead, however, it was Sakuko who found it uncomfortable, and Misaki who had waved off her concern with a casual: “We’re both girls here, aren’t we?”

Well, that was exactly the problem. Sakuko was usually reasonably ambivalent about the prospects of sex and romance. Too complicated, too time-consuming, too much risk of getting hurt. Still, as much as it shouldn’t matter to her, she disliked to entertain the prospect that she wasn’t only interested in men. But it was difficult for Sakuko not to notice how pretty Misaki was, especially when she was only half-dressed. But the idea of finding Misaki attractive in anything more than an admiring way, and therefore risking their friendship if Misaki found out, made Sakuko somewhat uncomfortable. Misaki was pretty, even if she didn’t dress to show it off. And there were only so many times Sakuko could see her in her underwear before she noticed that she was kind of hot too, if in a non-traditional way. Misaki wasn’t particularly curvy or busty or anything like that, her breasts were small, and her hips narrow, but her thighs and arms and belly were toned in a way that made Sakuko somewhat envious, and the petiteness of her frame was strangely cute. 

“Oi, Sakuko, you alright? You’ve been staring into space for like 5 minutes now.” While Sakuko had been lost in thought, Misaki had taken the liberty of having a drink and pouring herself some cereal. 

Sakuko blinked and refocused her gaze on her friend. “Yeah, must have dozed off again.”

“You sleep with your eyes open? That’s creepy.”

Sakuko clicked her tongue.

“Mind if I use your shower?” Misaki asked, dropping the empty bowl into the sink.

“Go ahead. There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink.” 

“Are you saying my breath smells?” Misaki feigned offence. 

Sakuko half-smiled at her joke. “Like a dog’s. Go get clean; you get all sweaty when you sleep.”

“Only ‘cause I had to share a bed with you.”

“You’re the one that’s like a tiny space heater, and you kept getting right up in my personal space and making me too hot.” 

“Better than having cold-ass hands like you.” Misaki poked her tongue out, then went into the bathroom, and Sakuko chuckled quietly as she watched her leave the room, unable to stop her eyes from lingering on Misaki’s bare legs. 

It had gotten too easy to be around Misaki, like it had been before they joined Homra, but Sakuko hadn’t yet relearned her old defence mechanisms. Too often she found herself being caught off guard by how pretty Misaki was, or by how tender she could be when she let down her tough guy front. There were so many things that Sakuko had to admire about her. Even if she was stubborn and brash and reckless and slow to understand and acted before she thought and wouldn’t listen to reason, she was fiercely, fiercely loyal, and an unfailing friend to those who had earned her trust. She was optimistic and generous and protective and funny and she would do anything for the people closest for her. Sakuko had forgotten what the ferocity of Misaki’s faithfulness had felt like, and being included in that circle of people Misaki considered her closest friends again and being on the receiving end of that loyalty never failed to cheer Sakuko up whenever she thought about it. 

When they were younger, Sakuko had gotten used to passing off these wayward musings about how pretty Misaki was or how much she admired her as another manifestation of her envy, dismissing the possibility that those thoughts were indicative of any sort of romantic or sexual attraction. After all, there had been plenty of things Misaki had that Sakuko had wanted; she had a loving family, and she had fit in effortlessly at Homra. It didn’t help that she was also prettier than Sakuko. Misaki had the body of a gymnast, while Sakuko’s height and her tendency away from proper nutrition had left her lanky and somewhat ungainly. Yes, she thought Misaki was pretty, and yes, she loved her, but whenever she had thought about it all those years ago, she concluded that surely that was the kind of love everyone had for their best friend, the closest thing they had to family. Not that she had anything to compare it to. 

And now these errant thoughts were returning stronger than ever, Sakuko wasn’t sure if it was her feelings that had changed, or if they simply seemed different now that she had a point of comparison. Sceptre 4 had become like her family, in an odd sort of way. Although she and Seri didn’t exactly hang out, she had become almost an older sister to Sakuko; if ever something was off about her, the older woman would pick up on it and remind her that she was there if she ever wanted to talk about anything. The men in her squad were similarly caring, if not quite in the same way. And then of course there was Reisi, who had quietly supported her the entire time she had been a member of his clan, who she had been able to look up to as her King the way that she wished she had been able to for Mikoto. It had taken Sakuko a long time to get used to the prospect of being cared about by anyone other than Misaki, but over time she had come to see Sceptre 4 as her home the same way that Misaki saw Homra as hers, if not quite so openly. 

Now she could compare the feelings she had for Misaki with those she had for her fellow Blue clansmen, she had to acknowledge that there was definitely something different. Seri was beautiful, but Sakuko never had intrusive thoughts about how soft her skin was, or the way the light hit her hair, or what it would be like to kiss her. She would certainly never share a bed with Seri. 

Her feelings for Misaki were different to the ones she had for Reisi too, even though she had slept with him, once. Well, ‘slept with’ wasn’t exactly accurate; she left as soon as she was dressed. They had met in a bar, both of them drunk and grieving, and served as a convenient distraction for one another for an hour or so. He had been quite good in bed, attentive, considerate et cetera. And of course he was very attractive, just not in the same way as Misaki. Sakuko didn’t mind the one-night stand, sure, but it had been entirely impersonal. There had been no kissing, no cuddling, no calling each other’s names. It was almost business-like. And that suited her. She certainly didn’t have the same desire to kiss every inch of his skin and hold him tight and have him _belong_ to her the way she did with Misaki. 

Perhaps that was what it was, not envy but _jealousy._ When men had eyed up Misaki’s legs in the bar the night before, Sakuko hadn’t hated them for it because she resented Misaki for being more attractive than her, she had hated them because she didn’t want anyone else to look at Misaki that way. Just her. 

This realisation hadn’t exactly been sudden for Sakuko. Since they had started talking things out with each other again, the fleeting thoughts, not just about how gorgeous Misaki was, but about how important she was to Sakuko, despite all of her flaws and all her little irritating traits, were becoming increasingly common. And now Sakuko was finally resigning herself to it. She had been trying to suppress those thoughts as nonsense and dismiss them ever since she was a middle schooler, but every time they resurfaced, they gained a few more concessions from her. At first, she had been in flat out denial. She wasn’t attracted to women, or was it just one particular woman? But for a number of weeks now, she had been reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that maybe that wasn’t strictly true, whilst still holding the thought at arm’s length, unwilling to completely accept it. 

Until she now, finally, yielded. 

_I might be bisexual._

It was the first time she had allowed herself to think the word, to acknowledge it. Not that it was a problem in itself, the problem lay in that it gave validation to the prospect that she was, in fact, in love with her best friend. Which would be completely impractical for a number of reasons. The main one being that they had finally started to fix things again, to get comfortable with one another. They were talking about moving back in together. The scar on Sakuko’s collar bone didn’t itch so much anymore, and the mention of Mikoto’s name didn’t make her grit her teeth like it always used to. They still fought, of course, but they were getting better at communicating what they needed to, even if it took some time and even if they occasionally lost their patience with the miscommunications, they managed to work things out eventually. Sakuko was trying to get out of her habit of closing up about her emotions, and Misaki wasn’t struggling as much to understand her. Maybe that was why Sakuko’s feelings about her were different now. Or maybe they had always been like that, but Sakuko had gotten better at opening up to herself as she had gotten better at opening up to Misaki. 

She couldn’t tell Misaki about this though. Sakuko didn’t know if she’d be able to deal with Misaki rejecting her, which she probably would. She had never expressed any indication of being interested in women, after all. And what if they did get together? Sakuko didn’t know the first thing about sustaining a romantic relationship with someone; she was bound to screw up and get herself dumped, and what then? She would lose Misaki all over again, and that was out of the question.  
But what if she didn’t say anything, and Misaki got with someone else? It’s not like she would struggle; there were plenty of handsome men at Homra who she trusted with her life. And she was beautiful; what man wouldn’t want her? The thought of Misaki, her hair mussed and her eyes bleary with sleep, waking beside some guy, made Sakuko feel sick. But what right did she have to be possessive? She had only just come to terms with being attracted to women (woman?), and she still found herself reflexively dismissing the possibility that she had feelings for Misaki. Therefore, she had no right to act like Misaki belonged to her, even if she wanted her to. 

Sakuko felt herself instinctively move to deny the desire to have Misaki to herself. Lying had become so instinctive to Sakuko, so engrained as a mechanism of protection, that she could barely tell when she was lying to herself any more. But she knew she couldn’t keep on pretending that nothing was wrong forever. Perhaps the only way to deal with these feelings was not to ignore them, pretend they didn’t exist, but acknowledge them, and accept that they would never lead to anything. After all, isn’t denial the first stage of grief, and acceptance the last? Something like that, anyway. Not that she grieved for the loss of whatever it was that they never had in the first place. She was happy; it was the first time in her life that Sakuko could really say that. She felt as though she had finally found a place that she fit into, when before she had felt awkward, stuck in some in-between place, unwelcome. It was unfortunate that this had to come up now. But better that she accepted that some things wouldn’t go her way than say something stupid and risk ruining everything, just as it was all falling into place. 

Sakuko had just about accepted that as the most logical conclusion and begun to steel herself to go through with it when Misaki came out of the bathroom and her resolve evaporated. She had a towel wrapped around herself, covering very little of her bare skin, and her hair was damp. A few beads of water still clung to her collarbone, and they shone faintly in the honey coloured light that spilled in through the window. 

“Ah jeez Sakuko, you’re still in bed?” 

“Looking after you when you’re drunk is tiring.”

“Tch. So what’s with the spare toothbrush then anyway? Have a lot of guys over or something?” Misaki’s attempt at teasing her was somewhat weakened by the blush on her cheeks. 

“If I was having one night stands I wouldn’t be having them here. You can’t escape your own room while the guy is sleeping.” Sakuko said bluntly. 

“That’s pretty cold.” There was an odd sort of satisfied look on Misaki’s face. 

Sakuko shrugged. “What’s with that look?”

“I feel pretty special that I’m the only one you let stay over here, heheh.”

Something told Sakuko that that wasn’t the entire truth, but she wasn’t in the mood to press. “Only because you would have gotten yourself lost or mugged or fallen asleep in an alley somewhere if I let you walk home by yourself.”

“Oi, I’m not that helpless.”

“No, but you were completely paralytic.” 

“Tch.” Misaki couldn’t deny that. “Have you got anything I can borrow to wear home? I spilled something down my shirt last night.” 

Sakuko hauled herself out of bed reluctantly and padded over to the wardrobe. “Need anything else?”

“My jeans and bra will be alright for another day… so just a shirt, socks and underwear please.” 

Sakuko rummaged around for a moment to find something small enough to fit her, then turned back towards her and almost dropped the bundle of clothing in surprise. Misaki faced away from her, the towel crumpled around her feet, naked except for the bra that she was fastening behind her back. 

“Misaki, do you really have to get changed right in front of me?” Sakuko managed to maintain her usual disinterested tone, though she felt her heart squeeze uncomfortably, almost nervous. Her mouth was dry again as she tossed Misaki the clothes. 

“The floor’s wet in the bathroom. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen me get changed before. We’re both girls here.” Misaki kept her back to Sakuko, stepping into the panties she had lent her. 

“So?”

“So we’ve both got the same bits, is it a big deal if you see my butt?” 

“Misaki, I’m bisexual.” Sakuko had barely decided to say it before the words toppled out of her mouth. She gritted her teeth at her tactlessness. Now there was no more denying it; by saying it out loud she had made it real. But it felt disingenuous not to tell Misaki. Besides, if anyone was going to know, it might as well be her best friend. 

“…Why does that make a difference?”

Sakuko turned towards her, giving her a confused look. Misaki was fully dressed now, except the socks. The black woollen jumper that Sakuko had given her was baggy on her small frame in the same adorable way the t-shirt had been earlier. 

“I mean, it’s not like that makes you a creep who’s gonna perv on me while I change just because you like girls.” There was a faint blush on Misaki’s cheeks as she sat on Sakuko’s bed and pulled on the socks. 

Sakuko nodded slowly.

“Jeez, ya look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you never tell anyone that before?” 

“No.”

Misaki stood up. “Stop lookin’ so nervous. It’s not a big deal.” She offered Sakuko an encouraging smile, which quickly turned to a small, determined frown. “I mean… that came out wrong. I get that it’s a big deal, you telling me that. But it’s not a big deal to me; I’m totally cool with it. You’re still my best friend whoever you like, and I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” She paused for a moment, then added: “And thank you, for telling me.” 

“It’s nothing.” Despite Misaki’s reassurances, Sakuko’s heartbeat was still quick with adrenaline; she could feel it in the back of her throat. She hadn’t been afraid that Misaki would react badly out of homophobia or anything like that, it was more that she was afraid she had set herself down a path, and now it was too late to change her mind. Telling Misaki that she was interested in girls was another step towards telling Misaki that she was interested in _her,_ which was another step closer to losing her entirely when she was rejected, or when their relationship inevitably turned sour. 

Apparently, her fear was still present in her face. “Hey, are you alright?” Misaki had dropped the light-hearted tone. 

“Fine.” 

Misaki sighed in a way that said: _I know you’re lying but I also know I’m not going to get the truth out of you now so I’m not going to bother,_ and she wrapped her arms around Sakuko’s waist, obviously not knowing any other way to comfort her. Sakuko froze for a brief moment in surprise, but hugged Misaki back, pressing the warmth of her small body closer to her. Misaki rested her head against Sakuko’s chest, gripping the back of her t-shirt. Sakuko couldn’t help but draw her in tighter, once more hyperaware of every tiny aspect of her. The smell of Sakuko’s shampoo combined with the normal scent of Misaki’s skin, the slight dampness of her hair, the way her chest expanded slowly every few seconds as she took deep, relaxed breaths, seeming so content in Sakuko’s arms. 

The embrace was ever so slightly too tight, and lingered ever so slightly too long for a friendly hug. When they finally broke apart, Misaki looked up at Sakuko with an odd, gentle expression, those copper coloured eyes wide. Misaki’s mouth opened slightly, as though about to say something, then she paused, her brow furrowed, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, almost in frustration. Her cheeks tinged faintly pink, and Sakuko had never wanted to kiss her more. The air between them was taut with words that weren’t quite spoken. 

Misaki’s gaze dropped, unable to meet Sakuko’s eyes any longer, and began frantically searching for anything else to fix upon, seemingly struggling to find the words for whatever it was she wanted to say. Her gaze settled on the clock. 

“Ah, crap, I’m supposed to meet Izumo in ten minutes; I’ll never make it in time.” She stepped back and began hurrying around the apartment to grab her things. Sakuko was simultaneously relieved and heartbroken. She had almost ruined everything, almost let it slip, but she was so, so disappointed that she hadn’t. The way Misaki fit so perfectly in her arms nearly made it worth it. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over, and lending me your clothes.”

“It’s nothing.”

“We’ve got that dumb shopping trip with Anna and Seri in a few days, that’ll give me a chance to wash them. Can I give them back then?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, cool. And…” she trailed off.

“What?”

“If you need anything, if you ever wanna talk, don’t ever be afraid to tell me anything. I’m your friend, that’s what I’m here for.” She mumbled the words, seeming suddenly overcome by awkwardness. 

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. Okay, I really gotta go.” To Sakuko’s surprise, Misaki flung her arms around her once more in a brief but tight goodbye hug. When she released her, she hesitated in front of Sakuko for half a second, that uncertain look on her face again. Then, suddenly, she sprang up onto her tiptoes, gripping Sakuko’s wrist for balance, and brushed her lips against her cheek. The action was so brief and so gentle that it was over before Sakuko really understood what was happening, and Misaki had darted for the door before she had chance to ask. 

“See you soon!” She called over her shoulder as she let herself out, leaving Sakuko motionless with shock, the spot where Misaki’s lips had skimmed her cheek burning and a thousand guilty ‘what if’s spinning in her head. She didn’t know where they stood any more. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do next. She didn’t know if she had the strength to keep Misaki at arm’s length any more, even if giving in would mean losing her down the line. All she knew was that the room seemed a little darker now she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be read as a standalone piece, though the story is continued in "Being Honest" which is part 2 of this series~


End file.
